Robert Levine

Kari Juusela

I have just returned from Bob’s funeral during which I sat lost in thought reminiscing about our unlikely friendship. Bob was from old New England Irish Catholic stock and his father was a high-ranking Naval officer working in Washington D.C. I was born in Finland, English was my third language, my father was a Finnish diplomat, and my mother was an international opera diva who sang with the Washington Opera at the Kennedy Center. Judee Norris introduced me to her friends that hung out at Ayrlawn park, and Bob was among the crew. Bob was clearly noticeable due to his large size, commanding presence, stentorian voice, hearty belly-laugh, his already visible mutton chop sideburns, and the fact that he was carrying a thick oak staff. He introduced himself as Gandolf, the wizard. I had read the Tolkien books, so I quickly realized that he wanted to be associated with strength, magic and power. For some reason, Bob took a liking to me, and we enjoyed arguing politics (when one could still do such a thing), debating every item that had two possible points of view, impromptu wrestling matches, and perhaps most of all, he enjoyed relieving me of all my money at out picnic table poker games. Bob was competitive and didn’t like to lose. It was the 60s, and most of the gang enjoyed smoking a bit of reefer. Bob and I did too, but we both preferred a cold beer to a hit from a joint. I spent most of my summers in Finland, but one year Bob and I spent August at his aunt Teresa’s cottage on Long Island. His aunt was an antique dealer and on weekends we would go to estate sales to look for items for her shop. At one auction, a large wooden houseboat that was in total disrepair caught her eye and she bought it. That houseboat became Bob’s and my summer project to sand, scrape, and repair. Perhaps she bought it to keep us out of trouble. It worked.

After finishing junior high, Bob went to Walter Johnson HS and I went to Walt Whitman due to the district I lived in. Our friendship waned for a couple of years until I transferred to Walter Johnson in my junior year. We saw one another at parties and such, but my life had become dominated by music and Bob’s path was leading towards college and eventually med school. We graduated HS in the same year and spent most of our senior prom in the hotel bar with Judee and friends drinking copious amounts of booze,  laughing, yakking, and saying our goodbyes as I was heading off to tour with a band for the summer and then off to music school in Boston.

Bob and I didn’t see each other or hear from one another for about 35 years until Bob contacted me through Facebook. At the time, Bob was a surgeon and researcher at the Leahy Clinic outside of Boston and I was a Dean at Boston’s Berklee College of Music. We reconnected at a Kentucky Derby Mint Julip party at his house. It was great to see my old friend and hear about his adventures as a ship’s doctor on the USS Enterprise during the gulf war and learn about his other accomplishments. We attended each other’s parties for a few years, but only occasionally. One year, at his house north of Boston he showed off his newest hobby of beekeeping, for which he had gained a strong passion and ability. He enjoyed sitting quietly in the twilight, gazing across the marshes accompanied by the buzzing of the bees. He warmly sent me off with a jar of fresh honey.

Around that time, my son had graduated med school and was looking for advice about a specialty.  Bob very graciously took him to lunch and subsequently mentored him for a while. Bob’s willingness to share his experience and medical wisdom with my son meant a lot to me. My son has thrived in his field, and I attribute some of his success to Bob’s mentoring. 

My last meeting with Bob was at a restaurant in Gloucester about nine years ago where he told me that he was moving to Florida and also about his mounting health problems that kept him from sharing a bottle of wine with me and my wife. I read on Facebook about Dr. Bob’s show on A1A radio in the Florida Keys, but we did not remain in communication. 

It was lovely to see that Bob’s boys have grown into fine young men. I’m sure he was very proud of them. Smooth sailing Commander McLellan.

Timothy (Tim) Daniel

Robert Levine

Thanks, Kari for a wonderful narrative about your life path with Bob. I enjoyed reading it so much. I spoke with Bob within the past 2 years and unfortunately we did not connect, even though we were living close proximity (I am living in the West Palm Beach FL area and he toward the FL keys). I did not realize Bob had soom health challenges. Had I known I would have tried to help. I am sorry I lost contact with Bob; my loss. Be well....

Scott Rosenthal

Kari - an eloquent and heartfelt tribute to your old friend.   Those good memories endure despite the periods of absence - clearly, you had a very strong bond.   RIP Bob.

Bob McDonald

Kari, that was a remarkable and moving remembrance. Thank you for sharing.

Judith Kopin (Hendlish)

Kari. Your essay on your friendship with Bob was beautiful. It left my heart full. I knew Bob in High Scool and only reconnected while we were planning the reunion. My memories of Bob were fond ones. It  wonderful to hear yours that were much more extensive than mine. That you so much for sharing them so eloquently. 

Ron Newmyer

I really enjoyed Karis' beautiful reminiscence about Bob McLellan. I remember him fondly as well but that really filled in a much larger picture for me.

Richard Lyons

Thank you, Kari, for a lovely tribute to Bob McClellan. Your sentence "Bob was clearly noticeable due to his large size, commanding presence, stentorian voice, hearty belly-laugh, his already visible mutton chop sideburns..." provided a clear memory of the man we remember. Is a privilege to be in community with such memories of wonderful classmates. Best Regards and Blessings, Rick

Sally Avedikian (Embree)

Condolences to the McLellan family, and please forgive my confusion, but I distinctly remember a Bill McLellan, but not a Bob McLellan.  Are they  related?